Authoress Note: Welcome to Chapter 22 of Messed Up World. Thank you to those who have left reviews for this story. It really does mean a lot to me that you guys are enjoying this story. I am trying my best to write this story out. It just takes time to make a good story. I can't wait to show you guys what will happen in this chapter and we're starting episode 5. Which we're almost getting to the halfway point of this story. Which will be episode 7 which will be broken down into 5 chapters like all of the episodes are broken down into 5 chapters. It makes it easier on me so I'm not adding too much into writing in each chapter. I hope that you guys enjoy this next chapter. Without further ado chapter 22. ENJOY!
Margarita sat at the table with their guests, Bella and Jack. She checked on their daughter who sat in her booster seat at one of the chairs next to her. She stroked some of her daughter's hair back softly soothing their child knowing that dinner would be coming soon enough.
Bella watched her husband take a drink of his wine, savoring the flavor.
Jack glanced up, catching her looking, and when he did he smiled at her with a genuine smile, her smile was forced.
Hannibal came into the room carrying individual Terrines of Foie Gras. "A masterpiece foie gras Au torchon with a late harvest Vidal sauce and dry and fresh figs." He said putting the terrines in front of Bella and Jack and then his daughter and wife and then himself. "Mrs. Crawford, your husband introduced you as Bella. Are you an Isabelle or an Annabelle?"
"I'm a Phyllis. But Jack only calls me Phyllis when we disagree." Bella explained to Hannibal looking up at him.
"So named Bella for your beauty?"
"We were both stationed in Italy. I was Army. She was NATO staff. The Italian men called her Bella. But I wanted her to be my Bella." Jack explained as he took a bite. "Cold foie gras with warm figs."
Bella eyed the Terrine of Foie Gras. "Would I be a horrible guest if I skipped this course?" She questioned softly looking up at Hannibal.
"Too rich?" Hannibal questioned his brow raising slightly.
"Phyllis." Jack said looking at his wife feeling slightly embarrassed that she was doing this now.
"First and worst sign of sociopathic behavior - cruelty to animals."
"That doesn't apply in the kitchen."
"I have no taste for animal cruelty. The goose, in this case the gander, is not force fed. It eats only as much as it chooses and only in its natural environment." He looked over at Jack. "Would you like your wife's serving?"
"At my table, just the cruel deserve cruelty, Mrs. Crawford. Which is why I employ an ethical butcher."
Bella looked over at Hannibal out of the corner of her eyes. "An ethical butcher? Be kind to animals and then eat them?"
"I'm afraid I insist on it. No need for unnecessary suffering. Human emotions are gifts from our animal ancestors. Cruelty is the gift humanity has given itself." Hannibal said as he got up with a thing of wine walking over to where Bella sat.
"The gift that keeps giving." Jack said as he slowly ate his meal.
Hannibal leaned over Bella, pouring more wine into her glass. "Your perfume is exquisite, similar to the aroma on the air just after lightning strikes. Is it Jar?"
Bella looked up at Hannibal, her eyes widening slightly. "You've got some nose, Doctor."
"I first noticed my keen sense of smell when I was a young man. I was aware one of my teachers had stomach cancer even before he did."
"Makes an effective parlor trick." Jack mused as he drank some of his wine down.
"Our next course is roasted pork shank. And I assure you, Bella, it was an especially supercilious pig." Hannibal explained to Bella with a small smile.
Margarita smiled a small smile knowing that her husband was trying to achieve something and he probably hit the nail on the head when he mentioned cancer. She could tell that Bella had tensed up when that was said.
Margarita sat tiredly at the table in the kitchen dressed in her black silk robe covering her night clothes, her hair tousled with being roused from sleep.
Hannibal wore a bathrobe covering his night clothes as he made coffee in a vacuum coffee maker.
Will stood in the kitchen, fully clothed, and rather bright eyed being up so early in the morning.
"Although I may be, is it safe to assume you're not sleepwalking now?" Hannibal said as he made the coffee for each of them.
"I'm sorry it's so early." Will said softly apologizing for being there so early in the morning.
"Never apologize for coming to me. Office hours are for patients. My kitchen is always open to friends." Hannibal explained as he handed Will a cup of coffee. "Onset of sleepwalking in adulthood is less common than in children."
"Could it be a seizure?" Will asked as he took a sip of his coffee.
"I'd argue good old-fashioned post traumatic stress. Jack Crawford has gotten your hands very dirty." Hannibal said as he put a coffee in front of his tired wife.
"Wasn't forced back into the field." Will pointed out to Hannibal knowing that Hannibal was trying to place the blame somewhere.
"I wouldn't say forced. Manipulated would be the word I'd choose." Hannibal said as he finished making his own coffee.
"I can handle it."
"Somewhere between denying horrible events and calling them out lies the truth of psychological trauma."
"So I can't handle it?" Will questioned looking over at Hannibal, his brow raised.
"Your experience may've overwhelmed ordinary functions that give you a sense of control."
"If my body is walking around without my permission, you'd say that's a loss of control?"
"Wouldn't you?" Hannibal questioned looking over at Will. "Sleepwalkers demonstrate a difficulty handling aggression. Are you experiencing difficulty with aggressive feelings?"
Will thought about it long and hard trying to figure out what to say to Hannibal. "You said Jack sees me as fine china used for special guests. Beginning to feel more like an old mug."
"You entered into a Devil's Bargain with Jack Crawford. Takes a toll."
"Jack's not the devil." Will said, shaking his head.
"When it comes to how far he's willing to push you to get what he wants, Jack's certainly no saint."
"He has a point." Margarita said tiredly as she took a sip of her coffee. "Jack will do the same to you until you decide to quit."
"My wife is correct. Jack has done it to her in the past that she left and didn't come back until just this year."
Will looked over at Margarita, his brows furrowed. "You've quit on Jack before?"
Margarita let out a soft chuckle. "Yes, he'll push until he is beating a dead dog so to speak. I don't want that to happen to you, Will. Don't let Jack push you too far like he pushed me."
Will's brows furrowed as he took all the information in.
Jack, Will, and Margarita moved through the gauntlet of shell-shocked local police officers and FBI agents milling about the coroner's vans and police cars.
"Room was registered to John Smith, along with every other room here." Jack explained to the two of them.
"Appalling failure of imagination." Will said, shaking his head lightly as they walked.
"They paid with cash. No security cameras on the premises. The motel practically advertises it."
"Of course they advertise for stuff like this to happen." Margarita said as she looked around. She couldn't understand why a motel wouldn't have cameras at least in the parking lot to keep the vehicles safe for those who stay there.
"John Smith one of the victims?" Will questioned looking over at Jack.
"Mr. and Mrs. Anderson according to the register. Mutilated, displayed. Thought it might be the Chesapeake Ripper but no surgical trophies were taken."
Margarita stuck her hands in her pockets and squeezed her hands tightly into fist so no one could tell that she knew all about the Chesapeake Ripper and who they actually were. She couldn't willingly say it outloud that was for sure due to getting into trouble.
"I need you to prepare yourself."
"I'm prepared." Will said with a nod of his head.
Margarita looked over at Will wondering if he was truly prepared for what they were about to see.
"Prepare yourself some more. It's soup in there." Jack said, giving Will a look.
"Soup isn't good for the soul." Will said, looking at Jack, his brow raising.
"Not this soup. No jurisdictional rivalry here. Local Police practically begged us to take it."
Will went into a haze for a moment only to have Jack snap his fingers to get his attention.
"Where's your head?"
"On my pillow. I didn't sleep."
"Got just the thing to wake you up."
They then entered the room to see Brian taking photos already of the crime scene. They saw two bodies, one male, one female, kneeling on either side of the bed. The flesh of their backs had been cut down the middle, each side peeled back in a large flap, which rose out stretched like angel wings. Hooks were in the skin tied to hooks in the ceiling and walls with fishing line to spread the wings. Their wrists were bound in front of them with a fishing line, raised in a mock prayer. Their heads lolled on their necks.
Brain photographed the dorsal wounds of the victims as Beverly navigated the fishing line to take samples from the crumpled bed sheets that were clearly slept in.
Jimmy was dusting an open bottle of scotch and three glasses on a small table for fingerprints, one was still full.
Will's nose wrinkled as he looked. "Okay. I'm awake."
Margarita looked at Will. "Yeah I wouldn't doubt it. I'm awake too now." She said softly as her stomach churned.
"Hooks were bored into the ceiling. Fishing line was used to hold up the bodies and parts of bodies." Jack explained to the two of them.
"Least we know he's a fisherman." Beverly said as she looked up from her work.
"And or a Viking." Jimmy said, looking over at Beverly.
"Vikings do this?" Brain asked, his brows furrowed.
"Vikings do a lot of things. Discovered America 500 years before Columbus. Well, discovered Canada."
"Canada is America." Beverly pointed out looking over at Jimmy shaking her head lightly.
"Vikings would execute Christians by breaking their ribs and bending them back so they looked like wings. Then they'd rip out their lungs. Called it a Blood Eagle."
"Pagans mocking the God Fearing." Will said thinking as he looked at the scene.
"Who's mocking who here?" Jack questioned looking over at Will.
"He's not mocking them. He's transforming them."
"I don't know if it was a good night's sleep, but he slept here. Hair on the pillow and the sheets are still damp. He's a sweater." Beverly pointed out looking over at Will.
"Madness slept here last night."
Beverly indicated a small pool of vomit on the edge of the bed washing onto the nightstand. "He threw up on the night stand."
"Couldn't stomach what he did? Flop sweat and nervous indigestion."
"Not nervous." Margarita said, shaking her head lightly.
Will nodded his head in agreement to what she said. "Righteous. Thinks he's elevating them somehow, making them better than how he saw them. I need a plastic sheet to cover the bed."
Margarita slipped out of the room once an evidence sheet covered the bed for Will to lay on to see what he could see. She let out a soft breath as she crossed her arms, her stomach still rolling at what she had seen. She knew right away she was questioning herself wondering if there was even a point of coming on cases or even that being back in the FBI if things were just going to get so much worse than what they had been before? She knew that this was something that she was going to have to talk to her husband about and hope that he wouldn't psychoanalyze her.
This is the end of Chapter 22. I hope that you guys enjoyed this chapter. I know I tried my best with writing it. Do you think that Margarita was a little upset with being woken up by Will so early in the morning with her husband? I think she kind of might be a bit upset with him. I know if I'm ever woken up from sleep I'm not the nicest person in the world when it comes to being up so early in the morning when rudely awoken. Please leave a review and let me know what you think. Reviews help me with future updates and help me keep my muse going. I will update on Friday as long as I have chapters to post. Until next time.